


The Interview

by EdgeLaur



Series: Dead Soldiers [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, I can never have nice things and I like to shoot myself in the foot, Interviews, M/M, Pre-Canon, Public Relations, This was supposed to be silly and then I got the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7882372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgeLaur/pseuds/EdgeLaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Gabe have spent so many years keeping their on-off relationship out of the public eye. But when a recent return from holiday threatens to have that sneak out into the media, they devise a plan to keep everything under wraps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Interview

**Author's Note:**

> Okay as a note, I will say this. This can be read on its own, but I plan on writing the holiday that is mentioned and referenced in this fic. So if you wonder "what happened in on their UK holiday??" while reading this, never fear. You'll know sooner or later. It's a fun little story that, like this, was supposed to be fluffy and will probably turn into something painful.
> 
> I mean. Maybe not though. It isn't written yet. 
> 
> Anyway. I fail at notes. I wanted to write something nice and I love Reinhardt. Please enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Ana Amari pushed the papers across the table to her commander, arms folded as she leaned back in her seat. She fixed him with her most “disapproving mom” face while the man refused to look at the packet before him. The hand covering his face couldn't hide the flush creeping up to his blonde, disheveled hairline. Ana watched Jack carefully, head cocked, one leg crossing over the other as she waited for him to compose himself. His fingers tapped away on his temple a few times before he heaved an exaggerated sigh. As the moments ticked away and he refused to meet her face, she could only groan loudly, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. A light tap to the table with her foot made him wince. 

“Jack seriously, you're worse than Fareeha when I caught her with her first crush. I’d say there’s the same amount amount of humiliation, but even she didn't blush nearly as much as you are now.”

“Oh, don’t give me that tone, Ana.” He said finally, his hand scrubbing down his face and landing to grip on the edge of the table. Next to his hand, the small group of papers waited patiently for his attention. They were photos, to be exact. Photos of him and Gabe spending time together at a club near King's Row. A few were friendly enough but the others...Well. To anyone looking, they were stupidly innocent; just a smooch here or a handhold there. Regardless, Jack could hardly look at them, face still shining bright with the flush that had crept up there earlier. 

“You know for a fact that Fareeha wouldn’t have all of the media breathing down her back over something that could be construed as a scandal.”

“Well, we are talking about my daughter being caught with a girl, Jack. She thought her world was going to end too, you know.”

“Well.  _ Perspectively speaking. _ I think we both know this is a little more earth-shattering.”

Ana rolled her eyes again. Jack could be so childish sometimes. “What happened, anyway? I thought you two were being  _ careful. _ ”

“We were! Incredibly so! You know how paranoid Gabe is about everything, especially the media! It's just...things slipped...and we got reckless and…”  Jack's voice rose an octave or two with each desperate excuse and Ana couldn't help but crack a grin each time.

“I thought you two were supposed to be on a break anyway.” Morrison’s groan was too much and she laughed despite her friend’s clear misery; him and Gabriel were  _ always  _ an on-off affair. So much so that she, their closest friend and confidant, had lost track of when they were ‘together’ and when they ‘weren’t’. She was sure “on a break” was more Jack’s code for “Gabriel is feeling moody and I don't have time for his bullshit so I'm pretending to ignore him and his perfectly sculpted ass.” No matter the excuse, it never lasted long. Not when both of them were so ridiculously, horrendously,  _ predictable.  _ Honestly, their hot-cold streak these last so-many years was probably why the media had never gotten wind of their continuous relationship. 

Until now. 

“Has Gabe seen these yet?” Jack asked weakly, hand still mussing and pulling at his blonde strands. Ana couldn't stop the scoff that passed her lips. 

“Do you see him bursting into your office in a rage yet?”

“Good point,” Jack resigned before signing deeply. “Alright. So what are our options for covering this one up?”

Ana’s eyebrow lifted delicately at that. “Cover up? From who, Gabe? Your agents? The  _ world _ ?” 

Jack opened his mouth to retort, but his phone beeped on his desk. His eyes flicked to Amari who only motioned for him to pick up and address whomever was on the other line. Taking the cue, Jack cleared his throat and pushed the comm.

“Morrison here.” The sniper had to hand it to Jack; even under insane stress, the man had an incredible gift for sounding completely professional and unperturbed. A woman - Jack’s consultant, she thought? - replied on the other end. 

“Commander? I wanted to inform you that you have about five different requests for an in-person interview today.” 

This was nothing new. Everyone from the news to ambassadors wanted to chat with Overwatch's golden boy. Ana rolled her eyes and relaxed back in her seat. Jack appeared to share her sentiment. 

“Anyone important? I'm booked through November at least. If not, tell them to wait.”

“Well Commander, most - if not all - of them, are media outlets. One was even a late night talk show. Wanted to get your thoughts on Overwatch and what you've been up to?” 

Panic passed over Jack’s face for a split second. His eyes flicked to Ana’s, whose brow furrowed and she shook her head.

“Sorry, no can do. I do public but I don't do social media.” He wiped a hand over his face. This had always been his policy; he’d meet the public  _ in _ public. He hardly made TV, radio, podcast, or internet appearances. Ana didn’t even remember the last time he appeared on camera other than when they were getting photos taken. Ana had to give him props for not sounding nearly as tired as he looked when it came to dealing with these people.

“A few of these feel pretty urgent, sir. Guess you got a few juicy bits of gossip floating around and the masses want to hear it from you if they are true or not.”

“I can assure you whatever it is, it’s false,” he said, more forcefully than he probably meant to. Ana could almost feel his tolerance reaching its limit. She tried her best to hide her snicker from behind her hand. Jack caught it out of the side of his eye, jaw working endlessly in barely-contained anger. 

“Still, might be good for your public image if someone like yourself clears shit up.” 

“There's a reason I stay off social media, and this is probably number one on the list. I’m not doing it.”

“Well if you don't, someone else better,” his consultant on the other line said, exasperated. “You don't need more fire than you already receive, Commander.” 

“Someone else?” The question came from Ana, and Jack shot her a glare.

“Is that you, Amari? Yes, if Jack refuses to show outright, it can cause more suspicion among the public, especially concerning a topic of this level of..ah,  _ sensitivity.  _ If you don't want to do an interview, someone can go in your stead. We can write you off as busy or out of the country."

“Half the time that's correct anyway,” Jack grumbled, causing his consultant to sigh heavily on the other end.

“Yes but the public doesn't know that  _ or  _ they won't believe that. If you can get prospective to interview for you, let me know. I'll make a few calls and see what we can do.”

“Alright. Sounds fine,” he sighed out through his nose, hanging up the call without saying goodbye. He rubbed his eyes, his temple. “I'm getting too old to deal with this shit, Amari.” 

“Welcome to the club”, she said humorously. 

“I'm not 50 yet, I still have five years for that.” 

“Sure, tell that to the grey creeping up your temples,” she said, smirking. Not that she was one to talk; her dark hair had started to lighten years ago. Relatively speaking, the whole of their original strike team wasn't the most graceful of agers. Years of stress and service hadn't been kind to any of them. Ever self conscious, the golden boy ran his hands through his hair again, grimacing as he pulled at his cowlicked bangs. 

“So we have the option of having someone else interview.” He looked hopefully at her, but which Ana immediately shut his thought down before he could even voice it.

“Oh no Jack, don't even  _ think _ about it. Your puppy dog eyes don’t work for me and you still owe me for the last time I covered for both of your asses.” His mouth, which had been open to retort, immediately shut again in a huff. He crossed his arms, settling his boots up on his own pristine desk. 

“Fine, you got me there. Well if not you and not me-” 

“Why  _ not _ you, again?”

“Because I owe the media nothing, Amari,” he stated icily, his eyes glacial. “Besides, I’m just a golden cow waiting to be slaughtered. It’s hard enough to make public appearances anymore, what with every issue and question being pushed down my back. Either way...” he continued. “Hell, could you imagine if Gabriel was ever interviewed for anything?” 

“Never happen. Too many casualties,” Ana said, smirking. 

“Hmmm, yes, that would be bad for Overwatch’s public image.” 

“Great for his reputation, though. And we both know how much he secretly loves the attention.”

He huffed out a laugh, his eyes going far away. Amari just watched him reminisce for a moment before clearing her throat, bringing him back to the present. 

“Right, sorry. Anyway. Any other ideas?” He asked after a moment, and they both went quiet for a time, thinking of potential stand-ins. Yes, the three of them were out of the question, but there had to be  _ someone _ who was amicable enough and polite enough and engaging enough to go for an interview in Jack’s stead.

The door knocked, causing them both to jump and turn towards the noise. It was a light, airy knock and Ana turned back to Jack, watching as his brow came together confusion. After a quick “come in”, they were both surprised when the giant body of Reinhardt Wilhelm did its best to enter the Strike Commander’s office. A huge, toothy smile spread across his face upon seeing both of them. 

“Jack, Ana, hello! It is good to see the two of you!”

"Pleasure as always, Reinhardt,” Jack said cheerily, with none of his earlier fatigue gracing his words. 

“Reinhardt, it's good to see you; you look well.” 

If it was possible, Ana’s words just caused Reinhardt to stand up even taller and beam even brighter. 

“And you are looking lovely as well, Amari.” he purred, before turning back to the Strike Commander. “Jack, I know you just got back from your vacation - Lena was just telling me about it - and I know already you have so many reports to go through but…ah...”    


He trailed off as he caught the odd look on Jack’s face.  Reinhardt reached up to grab the tablet he was carrying in both hands, large fingers strumming against the back of it lightly. 

“Is everything alright Jack? Do I have something on my face?”

Jack blinked, shook his head, then grinned ecstatically. “No, no you’re fine. It just really  _ is  _ great to see you, Reinhardt. Just the man I wanted to see, actually. Mind if I ask you for a favor while I have you here?”

 

\-------

 

“This was a terrible idea, Jack.” 

“It’ll be fine, Gabe. And if not… well.” he trailed off, shrugging, hand on his chin, leg bouncing. He was flipping absently through the channels they were provided in the commander’s suite. The Zurich headquarters were not a bad place to have an extended stay at, but the large spacious room it offered him always made him itch. It never sat well with him that he got a large place while the rest of the crew got a fraction of the luxury. Especially when he knew the organization could afford the upgrades. Maybe he’d talk to Amari the next time he saw her, see if they couldn’t nudge the UN to allocate more money towards better living arrangements, maybe less from weapons development. It was peace-time after all and --

“Hey, Earth to Morrison.” The Strike Commander looked up from his spot on the couch and his eyes met those of Gabriel Reyes. His face scowled down at him and he placed a hand on Jack’s knee, stilling his jittering leg. The contact grounded him and he sighed out a heavy breath he didn’t know he had been holding. 

“Sorry. Thinking about other things, that’s all.” 

“Yeah, well maybe we should be focusing on this instead,  _ Commander.” _ Jack scowled at him as Gabriel dropped himself onto the couch, splaying his lanky body out and propping up his feet on the ottoman. Jack let his eyes linger over his frame before snarking out his reply. 

“You’re certainly  _ calm _ about all of this, Reyes.” 

The man just shrugged, tucking one arm behind his head, the other motioning for the remote. Earlier that week, he had been the living embodiment of irate. When Gabe had learned of the images, he had quite a few choice words to throw at Jack, who had just as many choice words to throw back. Gabe had blamed Jack, Jack had blamed Gabe, they had each thrown insults and were very close to throwing fists before Ana was able to step in between them. She told them both off, blamed them both for keeping their relationship in such shoddy shape, and if they were so mad about it, maybe they  _ should _ go on television and just come out to the world already. They had both immediately declined, to which her face went an impressive shade of scarlet and they both experienced the fury of an Egyptian woman screaming angry Arabic at them for a good half hour. 

It was impressive and demoralizing all at once, and neither of them even knew what she said. By the end of it, they were both too sheepish and terrified of her wrath to even ask. 

“Now, then, both of you are going to put your faith in Reinhardt, you’re going to sit down, you’re going to watch his interview  _ live _ no matter your time zone, and you’re going to  _ deal with the consequences. _ ” she had concluded in English, just to get her point across all the more clearly. They had both mumbled out an affirmative and she sent them both scuttling out of Jack’s own office, any staff in earshot snickering under their breath as they left. That had ended as soon as Gabe had stepped outside the office though; demoralized as he was, he could still glare the hair off anyone, and nobody had the balls to deal with his anger that day. 

A week later and here they were, waiting for a late night show in the States to air even though it was almost five in the morning in Zurich. Jack had told himself that the interview would go fine, that Reinhardt was more than enough entertainment for a late night interview, but the anxiety and the ‘what ifs’ had kept him up all night. Gabe had gotten up around 2 hours ago, grumbling about Jack leaving the lights on, and him being unable to get any rest because of it. 

“You know, I could just be too tired to be mad about anything other than the fact that you’re interrupting my beauty sleep,” he replied back to Jack’s earlier quip. “Now give me the damned remote, you don’t even know what channel it’s on.” Jack handed the remote to Gabe, who immediately yawned and flipped through a few channels before checking the guide. “What time is this publicity stunt supposed to start, anyway?” 

Jack checked the time on his handheld. “Five minutes. You want anything?” Gabe shrugged. 

“This may be good enough for popcorn, but knowing what they stock this place with… chips and a soda.” 

Jack went over to the kitchenette his suite came with, pulling out a bag of chips and two sodas. He didn’t feel hungry enough yet to eat, but having a soda would give his hands something to play with, help calm his nerves. By the time he got back to the couch, his anxieties were kicking back into full gear. He handed the soda and chips to Gabe but didn’t sit back down, pacing around the small living space. 

“You know, maybe we shouldn’t watch it live. Maybe we should just… record it. Watch it later. That way we don’t have to watch our private lives be shattered on a national-slash-global scale.” 

“Jack,” Gabe gruffed out from the couch, but Morrison seemed oblivious, lost in his own wheeling thoughts. 

“Maybe I should have gone instead. Or had you go. Or I could have made a social media account, verified it, posted one thing, and then left. That’s easy to forget about, right? Hell, would that have really created the least amount of collateral overall though? How much collateral will  _ this _ create?”

“Jack.”

“Is there any such thing as no collateral anymore in this day and age? Should’ve known I could never completely escape social media, fucking hell -” 

“JACK.” 

“What?” 

“Fucking get over here, sit down and get out of your goddamned head, it’s starting!”

Jack spun and went over to the couch, watching the screen intently, hardly registering it when Gabe gently grabbed his arm and pulled him down onto the couch next to him. He felt a warm, heavy arm snake around his shoulders and tug him closer. “Also,  _ please _ relax. You’re as stiff as a board, and I’m too tired for your panic attacks.” 

Jack breathed deep and allowed himself a moment to lean into the man next to him, who hummed appreciatively at the gesture. It was oddly dissociating; here he was, on the couch and sharing a suite with a man he didn’t want the rest of the world knowing who he was sharing with. He was about to watch one of his best and most trusted teammates walk on stage and help deflect the truth from the masses. A breathy laugh left him as he watched the late night show opening and the host greeting the crowd and going over the evening’s itinerary. Reinhardt wasn’t scheduled to appear until later, but it was clear the crowd was more than ecstatic to know he would be appearing.   


“Out of all the shit Overwatch has been accused of, and  _ this _ is what I’m most scared of: my personal life.” He felt Gabe shift next to him. 

“You know, maybe Ana had a point. We should just… come clean about this.” Jack huffed out another laugh, this one much more humorless. He shuffled the bottle of soda through his fingers. 

“That’s not the kind of attention I want and it’s certainly not the kind of attention  _ you _ want. I’m not a celebrity, I’m just a fucking soldier who does his job. They don’t need to care who I’m fucking.I don’t know why they would care anyway. And then there’s the prospect of the media doing the whole ‘will-they-won’t-they’ bullshit…” He grimaced, twisting the cap off his soda with a hiss. He took a swig and sighed, leaning more into the warm, solid presence next to him. He looked at his soda and wished -not for the first time- that something stronger would still affect him the way it used to, before his metabolism had been set into hyperdrive due to his enhancements. 

“Yeah, people can be shits. But you could always do what I do."

“Oh, and what’s that, smart ass.”

“I tell them the truth, then tell them it’s none of their damned business, now fuck off and get out of my office before I put my next round into their skull.”

Jack laughed, a real one thistime. He caught the smile that tugged at Gabe’s lips as he took a drink from his soda as well. 

“Please tell me you don’t use that line with all of your new recruits.” Jack grinned back at him. 

“Nah, just the nosy ones.” 

Jack sighed and shook his head. “And you wonder why your men hate you,” he followed up, watching the screen but only half paying attention. He was relaxed now; no matter how frustrated Gabe could make him, he also helped him calm down when his nerves were too strung out to function. Jack was always good about keeping his worries under wraps, so as to not to spread his insecurities along to everyone else. It was only with Gabriel that he could really voice his worries, could let himself get worked up just to let himself fall back down. 

“It’s all for appearances. Gotta keep ‘em on their toes,  _ cariño. _ ” He nodded to the television, his eyebrow lifting. “Alright, here we go.”

Jack turned back to the screen, his heart jumping unpleasantly to his throat. Reinhardt was called on stage, and it was clear he all too happy and comfortable in front of the camera. The man was massive but unintimidating, laughing, shaking hands, and posing for a cheering crowd. Next to him, Gabe let out a throaty chuckle. 

“Good to see he’s still a natural ham for the camera,” he said, and Jack couldn’t help but agree. He relaxed back into Gabe again. Maybe this wasn’t such a shit idea after all. 

“Reinhardt Wilhelm, good to have you on the show, good to have you on the show!” The woman comedian who hosted the show happily greeted him and he wasted no time leaning down and kissing her hand, like a true gentleman. The crowd roared. She played it up herself and and he bowed and sat down in his seat, but only after she had regained hers as well. Next to him, everything looked miniature, and he had to readjust himself on the whole of the couch just to get the proper fit. The host was a good 24 inches shorter than him, at least, even in heels. She didn’t seem too perturbed however, and instead launched right into the interview. 

“It is good to be here, Latisha,” he started cheerily.  “I did say that right, yes? My accent, you know, it can be a bit thick in my old age.” 

The crowd laughed and cheered again, and he just merely shrugged and grinned. Jack couldn’t believe it. He was certain he could never get a crowd that excited just by greeting a host and saying her name with an accent. 

“You know, Reinhardt, you say it better than most people in the States. And I’m saying yours right, yes? Reinhardt?”

“Oh of course! Never better! You say it like a natural,” he purred out, and the host had a hard time keeping a straight face. 

Next to Jack, Gabriel scoffed. “He always flirted without realizing he was,” he said, and Jack hummed in agreement. The man had never settled down but his size, physique, and jovial nature were all attractive features. He hardly ever made any real moves, despite his sweet demeanor.

“I gotta say, it’s a real pleasure having you here. Your personality is as massive as you are.”

Reinhardt only laughed in response, leaning back on his couch. “I honestly didn’t know how I would fit through the door,” he said, to the audience’s laughter. “You know I had to sit first class on the way here, just to fit in the seat? I may be able to carry the heaviest Crusader armor but being so large can be difficult, no? I haven’t been able to ride a coaster since I was young.” 

“I think you definitely win out on being the tallest guest I’ve had on the show so far. Lemme guess, you tried out for basketball, but it never worked out, so military was the second choice on the list?” 

And so it went. The more he watched, the more Jack relaxed. The topics were nonsensical and casual, everything Reinhardt would feed off of and give genuine, entertaining answers to. He had to admit: out of everything that could have happened, this was definitely the best result. He even started wondering what he had been so worried about in the first place. He let himself doze next to Gabe, listening to Reinhardt’s boisterous answers on the television, Gabe’s hand carding lazily through his hair. 

“-- there’s nothing better than the feeling of watching a whole legion of enemies topple like bowling pins! “ Reinhardt laughed out, punching the air, his biceps on display to the cheers of the crowd. 

“Overwatch certainly gives you plenty of heroic moments to share.”

“Oh Latisha, I could go on for days. But please, don’t let me bore you any further, please.” The crowd made sad sounds at that and he waved them off, the grin still strong under his moustache. 

“I’m sure your colleagues have just as many heroic moments as you though, surely. In fact I think you all were awarded medals for your duties in battle recently?” The crowd cheered and Reinhardt just soaked it up. 

“Oh yes, they are all  _ wunderbar,  _ all beautiful people. Pleasure to work with them, all of them.” 

“Now, a lot of the original, legendary strike team are still prominent in Overwatch, yourself included.”

“Ja, that is correct. A few of us will be retiring soon but…” The boos came up and he hushed them with a hand, shaking his head in agreement. “I know, I know! It is hard to hang up the hammer, but they’ll be asking for my head otherwise. But Jack, Gabriel, Ana...all good people. Such good people! Never enjoyed working alongside a group more, aside from the Crusaders themselves, god rest their souls.” 

“Hopefully our good ol’ American boys won’t be hanging up their jackets any time soon.” 

“Oh, Jack and Gabriel?” the cheers grew louder. Somewhere above him, Jack heard Gabe scoff. He opened his eyes, watching Reinhardt, his stomach twisting as the topic turned towards the two of them. “No, they still have a few years. Hell, knowing them, they’ll probably never retire. They’ll fight for Overwatch until their dying breath!” 

Gabriel’s squirm shifted him, and he became more awake, the knot in his stomach tightening. His gaze flicked to Gabe; his expression was dark. Jack’s eyes flicked back to the screen, Reinhardt’s shining face the sun to Gabriel’s silent storm. 

“Jack and Gabe, they’ve known each other the longest out of all the Overwatch members, and yet tend to butt heads the most too, wouldn’t you say?” 

Reinhardt laughed, loud and throaty. “Oh, they are like polar opposites! But opposites attract, they say. A terrifying duo, those two. They bicker like an old couple, but if you are fighting against them?” He held his hands up. “There’s no hope, you’ll lose. I don’t know how Ana handles them, honestly.” 

“You know their relationship has always been very hush hush, but has come out a little more publicly since they were seen together on holiday in London.” 

Jack was fully awake now. He felt Gabe stiffen underneath him as well. The doubt was creeping in again. Perhaps this wasn’t that good of an idea after all. 

“Jack and Gabe? They are both very private people, ja? As everyone knows they both avoid social media like the plague. If anything though… they deserved that vacation.” Reinhardt’s tone had gone soft, gentle even. Like he was thinking of them with a fondness Jack didn’t see from the man very often. “They give their all to the organization, and they keep their image all about Overwatch, it’s morals and it’s codes. They uphold that to the utmost.” 

“Even with all the fire Overwatch has been dealing with lately? You still think they uphold those values at the end of the day?”

“Of course. I’d follow either of them into battle, until my dying breath. They are honorable men. I will never know men like them again. 

The crowd was silent, enraptured. Even Jack believed him, for a moment. The moment passed however, and suddenly his chest felt tight. He sat up, using Gabe’s knees to push himself up, leave the room. He just barely caught the closing remarks of Latisha’s broadcast, the applause of the audience, Gabe’s hushed saying of his name calling to him but he was already gone, already distancing himself as fast as he could. 

He stopped at the master bathroom sink --  _ too big, too clean _ , he thought, trying to find something to criticize -- and turned the faucet on, letting the cold water run over his hands, bringing it up to his face. His face was hotter than he expected; the cold water was like a refreshing shock back to reality. A shock back to all the things he had done, that he knew Overwatch had done, his troops had done,  _ Gabe’s _ troops had done…

_ “They are honorable men.” _

He didn’t know if he felt sick from relief or disgust. Maybe both.

“Hey.”

He looked up from the sink, his face dripping wet, to see Gabe leaning on the doorframe. His face was inscrutable but his eyes held worry. Worry for Jack -  he was certain, without a doubt, that he was the stem of all of Gabe’s worries, past, present, and future. The thought of that alone was enough for a humorless laugh to bubble up out of him. 

“I’d say that was the best we could have ever asked for.” 

Jack just looked back down at the sink, at the water running from the faucet. He nodded, silent.

“Though man, Reinhardt’s a bit too sentimental. Should ask him to do more interviews.” 

Jack just nodded again. 

“Definitely would help the public Overwatch image right now.”

“Yeah,” Jack gruffed out. His voice was oddly raw. Next thing he knew, a warm hand was on his shoulder and he looked back up. Gabe’s brow furrowed, watching him closely.

Ice blue met earthy brown.

“Jack, you doing alright?”

It was an instinctive move. He closed the gap between them, lips meeting, his face still wet and dripping when it reached Gabe’s, their kiss messy before straightening out, working into their usual movements. The tilt of his head, the feeling of Gabe’s hands on his shoulders, in his hair; it was all so natural, so comforting, so bittersweet and he swallowed it all in each kiss, each tender touch and moment. He pulled away before either of them could get too greedy, forehead resting on Gabe’s.

“We’re some fucked up people, aren’t we.” It wasn’t a question and Gabe understood. He closed his eyes, nodding against Jacks’ head lightly. Jack held on all the tighter.

“Yeah. Yeah, we are. We’re damn fucked up, Jack.” 

He breathed out hard, his throat constricting painfully. Gabe just held him while Reinhardt’s words echoed in his head, over and over again.

_ “They are honorable men.” _

If only he still believed it.

 


End file.
